Crazy Train
by ShaedowCat
Summary: [C'V] Sam's take on Asylum. Sam's POV.


**Title:** Crazy Train  
**Author: **ShaedowCat  
**Beta:** ??? o.O  
**Characters:** Dean, Sam, canon characters (little small amount)  
**Pairing: **None  
**Rating:** PG / K  
**Genre: **Supernatural  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. I'll never own them. I wish I owned them...and the car...but I won't. No money made, here. Please don't sue.  
**Feedback: **Is loved lots with jelly tots  
**Summary: **Sam's take on Asylum  
**Warning: **A bad word...okay, make that a few bad words. And a different take on Asylum.  
**Notes: **A First Review Request Fic for _Sparrow Lover_...hope you like it! Title taken from an Ozzy song brought to my attention by _Sparrow Lover_.  
This is a different take on Asylum...at least, I think so. It's kinda different from the other Asylum fics out there. This is the companion to my fic _What Brothers Do_.

**P.S.** Hope this isn't too confusing...or just confusing enough. I don't know...I want this to be jumbled and crazy, but not difficult to read. I find it difficult to write from Sam's POV under normal circumstances...and in this fic he is slightly crazy, so it's even harder...apologies for future possible annoyances!

* * *

"Don't be afraid...I'm going to help you...make you all _better_."

-:-

_hey Dad, guess what? We played soccer in gym today, and the coach said I should try out for the team!_

_that's great, Sammy._

_I know! He said the try-outs are Thursday after school...then if I make the team, practise is each Wednesday and Friday after school._

_Sam, you know you can't do after-school stuff...you've got weapons to take care of, and you've got to practise with bow-hunting._

_but, Dad..._

_Sam. I said No._

_-:-_

_never knew...you had such a mouth on you...Sammy_

_it's...Sam_

_-:-_

_I'm leaving. I'm eighteen, Dad...you can't keep me here, and I'm not staying_

_if you leave, you don't come back_

_then I won't come back_

_-:-_

_you selfish son of a bitch_

_at least I'm not a toy soldier, waiting for orders from Dad every damn second!_

_that's it_

_that's what?bye Sam_

_-:-_

_Dean, what the hell are you doing here?_

_well, I was looking for a beer _

_what. the hell. are you doing here?_

_okay, alright, we need to talk_

_uh, the phone?_

_if I'd've called, would you've picked up?_

_-:-_

_No!_

_Sam!_

_No! Jess! Jess!_

_-:-_

_it would be easier..._

_...if I were more like you?_

_like it or not, we are not like other people. _

_-:-_

_Sam. If Dad's telling us to go somewhere, we're going._

-:-

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam?" _Sammy. Sammy. Sammysammysammy _

Dean's torch shines brightly in my face. The shotgun is pointed right at me.

"Man! Answer me when I'm calling you!" _Pack your bags, Sam...I don't care, we're leaving _now"You all right?" _It's not safe, you can't come along...stay in the Impala, Sammy._

"Yeah, I'm fine." I am fine. Just fine.

"You know it wasn't me that called your cell, right?" _What do you mean, you don't know?_

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

"I think I know who...Dr Ellicott. That's the thing the spirits have been trying to tell us, you haven't seen him, have you?" _Goddamn it, Sam, I told you keep an eye out!_

"No. How do you know it was him?"

"'Cause, I found his logbook. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, some awful stuff...makes lobotomies look like a couple aspirin..." _C'mon, Sam, use those brains of yours._

But... "But it was the _patients_ who rioted."

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr Ellicott. Dr Feel-Good was working on some sort of like extreme rage therapy; he thought if he could get his patients to vent their anger, than they'd be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier...so I'm thinking what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop, to the kids in the seventies...making them become so angry they become homicidal." _JESUS CHRIST, SAM, I'M TALKING TO YOU!_ "C'mon. We got to find those bones and torch 'em." _Hurry it up, Sam...get your butt in gear._

"How? The police never found his body." This is hopeless...

"Well the logbook said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here, somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So...I mean if I were a patient I'd drag him down here and do a little work on him myself." _Sam, I'm not going to tell you again...you're doing your fair share, do you understand me? Now get to work!_

"I don't know, it sounds kinda..."

"Crazy?" _That's crazy, Sam..._

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly." _Sam, I already told you...you've got to get it exactly right...half-measures ain't gonna cut it._

I walk back to join him in the Boiler Room. He's looking around...I've already _looked_.

"I told you, I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." _C'mon, Sammy...you're gonna have to hide better than that... _"You hear that?" _Sammy? Sam! Are you listening to me?_

"What?"

"There's a door here." _If you leave you're not. coming. back. _

ENOUGH.

-:-

"Dean," I said quietly. He glanced back. The he saw the gun. "Step back from the door."

He did as he was told. For once.

"Sam, put the gun down." _If Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're going._

"Is that an order?" He's giving me _orders_?_ Now_?

"No, it's more of a friendly request." _...I can't hear you, the music's too loud..._

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders."

A little smirk, that familiar wry twist of lips.

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you, didn't he?" _C'mon, Sammy, even _I_ know that...try and keep up, will ya?_

"For once in your life? Just shut your mouth," I warned.

"What're you going to do, Sam?" he asked. "Gun's filled with rock-salt. It's not going to kill me."

So? I thought. I pulled the trigger. The force of the shot sent him backwards through the wall.

"No," I said. "But it'll hurt like hell."

-:-

He woke up pretty quickly. Gasped and raised his head, then let it fall with a _thunk_.

I walked over.

"Sam," he said, voice raspy. "We've got to burn Ellicott's bones and all this'll be over...and you'll be back to normal."

"I am normal." Christ, didn't he _get_ that? "I'm just telling the truth for the first time." I got closer. "I mean, why are we even _here_? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? 'Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam..." he muttered, not looking at me. They never looked at me...never saw _me_.

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own, I'm not pathetic, like you."

"So what're you gonna do, huh? You gonna kill me?" he demanded.

Kill? What...christ, yes. He makes me so damn angry...but...

"You know, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do." _Don't you get that, Dean?_ "We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago."

There was a pause.

"Well here," he said.

Then he pulled out his Colt.

"Let me make it easier for you," he continued. I covered him with the shotgun. What the hell was he doing?

He brought the gun up to his chest, then held it out to me.

What the...?

"Go on...take it," he said, bumping the gun against the shotgun's barrel, within easy reach. "Real bullets are gonna worka hell of a lot better'n rock salt," he went on.

No, Dean...

"Take it!" he growled.

Well fine, you stubborn bastard.

I grabbed the gun, and he collapsed against the ground with a muffled groan. I dropped the shotgun and gripped the Colt, feeling its weight in my hand. I leant over and aimed the gun at his forehead, lining up the notch and groove like I'd been taught, focussing right between his - Mom's, Dad's, _mine_ - eyes.

"You hate me that much?" he murmured._God, no...Dean...what am I doing? What are you doing? I'm...I'm going to kill you, and you're just lying there? Aren't you going to do anything? What the HELL, man? I'm going to kill you...no I'm not...yes I am...no I'm not..._yes_, I _am

"You think you could kill your own brother?" There was a hint of a challenge in those words.

Never give a challenge to a fucking Winchester, you fucking idiot

"Well then go ahead. Pull the trigger."

Jesus, Dean...

"Do it!"

FINE!

Click.

What the...?

Click.

Click.

Click.

A cool hand grabbed my wrist, dragged me down, and then -

Well. One second I was pointing a gun at Dean, the next I was face down on the ground, feeling like I'd been hit in the jaw with a baseball bat.

Well, _fuck_. That had_ hurt_. That _bastard_.

Footsteps reached my ears as I crawled over to the shotgun. Dean's voice floated down to me.

"Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol."

-:-

I wake up to cold concrete beneath me and the stench of burning remains. I lever myself up, then stretch out my jaw...oh, ow. That's gonna hurt tomorrow...forget that, that's gonna hurt _now_. I glance to the side a little and meet Dean's eyes.

"You're not going to try to kill me, are you?" he asks, only half-joking.

"No," I reply immediately, feeling a little sick as I say it. I came this close...

"Good," he's saying. "'Cause that would be awkward."

-:-

We head back to the corridor where we left Cat and Gavin in silence. Dean's making little pained hissing noises every so often as we avoid an obstacle or go up some stairs...basically, anytime something jars his chest. I'm not even sure if he knows he's doing it...probably not. He'd rather chew off his own tongue than admit to pain or weakness.

I shot him. Nearly killed him. _Would've_ killed him, if he hadn't thought to take the bullets out of his gun.

He's pretty smart, my brother.

We finally make it to the entrance of the South Wing. Cat's hands twitch on the shotgun when she sees us, and Dean hesitates a moment before stepping forward. Both teens look relieved to see us. The doors open when Cat tries them, and we leave as quickly as humanly possible.

As Cat and Gavin start to head off, Cat turns to us.

"Thanks, guys," she says, looking grateful.

"Yeah, thanks," Gavin echoes.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean tells them. They both nod, then turn and head for their car. We watch them go, then Dean grabs the bag of supplies and rounds the front of the car.

"Hey, Dean?" I say. He looks at me. I bite the bullet and go for it. "I'm sorry, man, I...I said some awful things back there."

"You remember all that?" he asks, looking surprised. I almost roll my eyes - I brought it up, didn't I? - but resist the urge.

"Yeah. It's like...I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean it...any of it."

So, yeah, I lie. Sort of. Some of it...some of it I meant. Just not like that...not like how it came out. But there's no way Dean's going to let me explain that...no "chick-flick" moments, remember, Sammy?

"You didn't, huh?" he asks. Well, hell. Maybe he's a little more perceptive than he lets on.

Wake up, Sam...of course he is. This is _Dean_.

"No, of course not," I tell him. I didn't mean it the way it sounded...that's got to be enough, for now at least.

Dean nods - just a little bob of his head - and I know he doesn't believe me.

"Do we need to talk about this?" I ask him. I don't really want to, but if Dean needs this...but there's that little head-shake, the one that irritates the hell out of me.

"No. No, I'm not really in a sharing, caring kind of mood," he says, and the abruptness hits me like a gut-punch. Shit. How badly have I screwed this up? "I just want to get some sleep," he adds in a softer tone as he slides into the car. The engine rumbles to life, and I open the door and sit down.

Dean lets out another one of those pained hisses as he manoeuvers the Impala back onto the road. I open my mouth to mention it, but bite back the words...Dean won't thank me for it. The drive back to the motel is silent apart from a few other noises of pain Dean can't quite muffle. Half-way back he flicks on the radio: Ozzy Osbourne's _Crazy Train_ fills the car, and I just manage to hold back a groan at the irony.

Mental wounds not healing  
Lifes a bitter shame  
Im going off the rails on a crazy train

I really wish Dean would change stations right about now...but Dean doesn't even seem to notice the song; he's just focussed on the road, not even tapping along to the beat.

Heirs of a cold war  
Thats what weve become  
Inheriting troubles Im mentally numb  
Crazy, I just cannot bear  
Im living with something that just isnt fair

Mental wounds not healing  
Who and whats to blame  
Im going off the rails on a crazy train

Once we get back, Dean's the first out of the car; he grabs the gear and heads for the room, disappearing inside and leaving the door open for me. I sit in the car, all the thinking I couldn't do - couldn't bear to do - on the drive back now making my head buzz.

Intellectually, I know I was possessed...or, not possessed, but influenced. The things I said...yes, they were true. I'll admit, I've thought it - hell, I've _said_ some of it out loud already - but that wasn't how I intended it to come out. I know Dean knows it, too...I mean, I _think_ I know he knows. He knows I'm pissed about Dad, and he knows...he knows that I thought of him as just a toy soldier. I've said as much before. So...he has to know I didn't mean it how it sounded. Right?

I scrub my hands across my face. Right. Okay. What's done is done. The best I can do now is damage control: try and explain as best I can, and try to make sure it doesn't happen again. Which will be difficult, considering Dean equates opening up with weakness, but I'll give it my best shot.

The ring tone I assigned to messages starts up, and I pull my phone out of my pocket. One new message, from...Dean.

Okay...

I open the message, scan it quickly - all four words and one smilie of it - and grin.

Hurry it up bitch :-/

I slide my phone back into my pocket, then grab my gear and get out of the car. I hoist the bag onto one shoulder and head for the room, already trying to figure out how to bring up the hunt without Dean labelling it "chick-flick" and banning it.

We'll be fine.

As long as I can get this crazy train back on the rails.

* * *

Um.

Um.

Um...

So...I'm too impatient to wait for a beta. So, I'm gonna post this now. Hope y'all like it! -:crosses fingers:- _Sparrow Lover,_ I hope this tickles your fancy!

Lyrics are from - you guessed it - _Crazy Train_, by Ozzy Osborne. I thought they were particularly fitting, given the situation and the boys themselves.

Reviews are indeed most welcome...give me lots!

luv ShaedowCat xox : )


End file.
